Free Heart's Thief (Highland Bodyguards, Book 2) by Emma Prince Page A

a terrible headache to move his meticulously stacked records.
    A loud rap on the door yanked Fabian from his musings.
    “It is Miles, milord.” The man’s voice was urgent through the thick wood.
    “Enter.”
    Mile’s enormous form nigh took up the entire doorframe as he entered.
    Even a quick glance at the man told Fabian something was wrong. Miles’s boots and breeches were splattered with mud, his tunic and uncovered head damp. Though he was a strong, powerful man, he gasped for breath as if he’d just had to run for his life.
    Miles dipped his dark head in a quick bow.
    “Out with it,” Fabian said sharply.
    “Sabine has discovered something…most worrisome, milord.”
    Fabian’s gut coiled with apprehension. “What happened?”
    “I gave her the description and location of the Bruce’s messenger and the brute riding with him yesterday afternoon. Then yestereve, she showed up at Devorgilla’s Bridge and whistled for me.”
    Fabian rolled his wrist with impatience, urging Miles on.
    “She said she had no trouble getting to the messenger, milord, but that once she opened the missive, it was blank.”
    Cold comprehension washed through Fabian’s veins like ice water.
    “She’s sure it was the Bruce’s missive?”
    “She seemed sure, milord. She believes the Bruce is on to you, and perhaps even hoped to catch you in his trap with that blank missive.”
    Fabian’s hand slid over his mouth to finger his neatly trimmed goatee. “Ah. And the messenger’s bodyguard—he was actually the King’s plant.”
    Miles nodded. Though the giant of a man was kept on more for his brawn than his brains, it was obvious enough that even he had managed to piece it together. Fabian muttered a curse.
    “And where is Sabine now?”
    “I left her behind in Dumfries. I told her to find her way to you, but I believe…”
    Fabian slapped his hand on his desk, sending several scraps of parchment fluttering. “Speak!”
    Miles’s dark eyes turned flat. There was the obedient warrior Fabian needed. All it took was a show of anger.
    “I believe the King’s brute caught up with her. When I realized she wasn’t behind me, I saw a rider approach her from behind.”
    A new fear seized Fabian’s innards. “Do you think she has turned on me?”
    “Nay, milord,” Miles answered quickly. “Her only thought when she told me of the blank missive was to get word to you as swiftly as possible. She is still loyal.”
    Fabian waved his hand in annoyance. “Nay, you fool,” he snapped. “I didn’t believe she was working with the man already. I have her too well trained for that. I meant—do you think she could be turned against me? You’ve seen her in the field. If certain…pressures were applied, might she compromise me?”
    Miles remained silent for a long moment. At last, he spoke. “I cannot be certain, milord. As you say, you have her well trained. But many things can happen in the field.”
    Fabian stroked his goatee in thought. Though he had once been little more than a hungry pickpocket himself, it had been years since he’d actually worked in the field.
    He’d grown up in a brothel, his mother and the other whores encouraging his light fingers to lift extra coins from the patrons. Once he’d become a man himself, he’d taken over the running of the brothel and found the manipulation of people’s hopes and fears much more satisfying—and lucrative—than simply picking pockets.
    He’d built this network—nay, empire —of thieves and spies singlehandedly. The most powerful men in all of England sought him out. With his expansion into the Scottish Lowlands, his reach and his wealth were sure to double.
    What was all that worth? What did Sabine know, and how much did her life cost?
    Fabian exhaled slowly, disappointed at the decision he knew he had to make. He’d recruited her young—he found that children were easier to manipulate—and trained her personally. She’d been especially responsive to the idea